


Bitty's Brews and Bakes

by edgarallanrose



Series: Coffee Shop Crossover [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (for teen wolf), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Barista Stiles Stilinski, Basketball Player Derek Hale, Bitty is Closer in Age to Jack, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Eric "Bitty" Bittle Didn't Go to Samwell, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Human Derek Hale, Jack is Exactly the Same lol, Jealousy, Like Shakespearean levels of misunderstandings, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Multiple, Real Smooth Zimmermann, Respect of Workplace Boundaries, Smooching, Stiles and Bitty are Cousins, The Hale Family (Teen Wolf) Lives, This AU is firmly situated in the Check Please universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21644689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: “I apologize for his. Um. Stiles is my cousin,” Bitty explained. “A very distant one. Through marriage only. I promised his daddy he could have a job when he moved here from California to go to school, and ya know, bless his heart.”The world's most ambitious crossover event ever attempted!IN WHICH: Bitty owns a coffee shop and bakery that's only open late at night and is located next to the Samwell campus! Stiles is his cousin and works as his barista! Derek and Jack are both Samwell jocks that can't stop overdosing on caffeine because they HAVE TO visit the cafe in order to see the respective barista and baker they've fallen in love with! However...they both think they're after the same cafe employee. Stiles and Bitty also can't stop mooning over the athletic, broody, dark-haired customer that frequents the cafe. Are they talking about the same guy?Jealousy, hilarity, and hijinks ensue!!
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Series: Coffee Shop Crossover [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689910
Comments: 107
Kudos: 391





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notenoughgatorade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughgatorade/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> First off, I'd like to thank [notenoughgatorade](https://notenoughgatorade.tumblr.com/) and [beacon911](https://beacon911.tumblr.com/) for giving me the inspiration for this fic and then enabling me to write it, finally dipping a whole toe into the Teen Wolf fandom lol. Additional thanks to beacon911 for betaing (any additional mistakes my own) and creating the GORGEOUS aesthetic board for this fic!! 
> 
> Also, thank you to all the folks on twitter and tumblr who encouraged me saying they WOULD, in fact, read an OMGCP/Teen Wolf crossover in the year of our lord 2019. I was very nervous about it, but I hope it turned into something you'll enjoy! If you're only familiar with Check, Please! I think you should still be able to follow along without having to know anything about Teen Wolf. If you like both, then I really hope you like them together!

Jack leaned his elbows on his desk, glaring at the textbook in front of him. The bass from the kegster below pulsed through the floorboards of Jack’s room, vibrating against his toes.

He rubbed his fingers against his temples.

Four hours of this. Four whole hours and Jack had barely gotten through half of his assigned reading. He had a midterm the following week. He felt like he was starting to come down with a cold. And now, on top of that, the loud music from the Pre-Fall Break kegster (or whatever the hell the excuse for partying was this time) was threatening to blow the Haus down.

Jack was finally desperate enough to text Shitty.

 **Jack:** Can you turn music down? Trying to study

Jack hit send before he could care whether he was coming off as short or rude. A vein throbbed in his forehead. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.

A few minutes later, he felt, rather than heard, a softening of the bass. He checked his phone for a reply from Shitty, but as soon as he unlocked the screen Shitty was throwing open his bedroom door.

“BRAH,” he shouted above the noise now pouring in from outside. He clung to the doorframe, swinging back and forth through the doorway. “You comin’ down or not?”

“No, Shits, I told you. Too much work tonight.”

“I’m sorry about the music, man. But this is as quiet as I can make it in order to drown out the garbage the lax bros are playing across the street.”

Jack nodded. “I understand.”

“Would it help if you went somewhere quieter?”

“The library closes at six on Fridays,” Jack sighed. “What else is even open right now? Besides, like, a McDonalds. Which…”

“No. You can’t support those minimum wage fucks. Fuck capitalism and fuck corporate America.”

“Right.”

“What about that new coffee shop? It’s right across from Lake Quad. Lardo goes all the time.”

“What new coffee shop?”

“It’s called…something alliterative?” Shitty tilted his head, frowning behind his aviators. “It starts with a B. Something Something Bakes. IDK. But they’re open ‘til like two! Lards brought me the pie from there once and I swear, brah, it almost brought me to orgasm.”

“Oh. Well.”

“Get out of here, get your shit done. We can out-party the lax bros without you.”

So, Jack packed his books alongside his laptop and shouldered the bag as he walked across the quad well after midnight. It was cold enough for a sweater, if not quite a hat. The crisp air devoid of lingering tub juice stink was already doing wonders for his headache.

Sure enough, there was a small storefront open in the plaza across from the lake, a neon “OPEN” sign buzzing brightly in the window. In stylized white writing above the sign it said, “BITTY’S BREWS AND BAKES.”

A small bell chimed above the door as Jack entered the shop. A couple other students occupied the tables, headphones in, buried in the blue light of their laptops, but it was largely empty. The lighting was soft and golden, the décor simple with dark wood and antique furniture. There were string lights along the ceiling. Unobtrusive instrumental songs played over a speaker. It felt more like somebody’s home kitchen than a coffee shop.

Jack remained awkwardly by the entrance. He supposed he should order something before he claimed a table. Working at the counter was the cutest boy Jack had ever seen on the Samwell campus or possibly anywhere ever. He was leaning over the display case, rearranging a plate of cookies. When he saw Jack he straightened up, giving him a warm smile.

Though Jack thought ‘boy’ in his head, in reality they must have been about the same age. But this guy was _so_ small. As Jack walked up to the counter he figured he’d only come up to his shoulder. He’d dated girls taller than that. The guy had to lift his chin to look up at Jack, showing off a dimple at the corner of his mouth, fair hair framing big, brown eyes.

Jack suddenly realized he had only moved from one distraction to another. Kegster versus Cute Coffee Shop Guy. He wasn’t going to get anything done here when he could just be looking at this guy instead.

The guy frowned, and Jack realized he had asked a question while Jack had been staring at him like a total creep.

“Uh,” Jack stuttered, “just a black coffee. Please.”

“My pleasure,” he said, grabbing a white mug from a stack on the counter behind him. “Normally I’d let my barista take care of a drink order, but I’ve got him on dish duty. Besides, I think I can handle a plain cup of coffee, don’t you?”

The guy had a charming southern accent, lilting like music in the calm of the coffee shop. Jack was never going to be able to come in here ever again, he was already too far gone.

The guy looked back over his shoulder at Jack as he poured Jack his coffee, apparently expecting an answer.

“Oh, um, sure.” Jack gave him a thumbs up. “You got this.”

The guy laughed at Jack’s stupid joke, setting the coffee down in front of Jack, ringing him up. Jack noticed his nametag said “Bitty.” Huh. So, this guy was the owner? He could have easily been another Samwell student. But that would explain why Jack had never seen him before; Samwell was a pretty small school.

“Now, we’ve got different sweeteners, milks, and stirring sticks on the table behind you, so you can fix it up to your liking,” Bitty said. “But do let me know if you need anything you don’t see out already.”

“I won’t want sugar,” Jack said, then grimaced. Why couldn’t he just say something normal without coming off like a total asshole? “I mean. I don’t need. Or. Never mind. Okay. Thanks, um, Bitty.”

“You’re welcome…” he said, trailing off.

“Jack.”

“Well, you’re welcome Jack,” he said with a bewildered laugh

Jack truly could never come here again. Maybe he should have gotten the coffee to go.

“No sugar, huh?” Bitty said. “You mean nothin’ sweet behind the counter caught your eye?”

Jack froze, eyes wide, thinking he’d been completely figured out. Bitty had seen him ogling and was now…what? Calling him out? Chirping? Flirting? Then Jack saw he was only gesturing to the display of baked goods.

“Oh, no. They look delicious, but, uh, I’m on the hockey team,” Jack said, lamely pointing to the logo on his t-shirt. “Got us on a pretty strict diet. So.” Jack shrugged.

Bitty actually pouted. “Well, that’s a darn shame. Do you think they’d begrudge you a small sample? I make everything in house, all by myself. Wholesome ingredients only, I promise.”

“I don’t suppose they’d—”

“Good!” Bitty said, cutting him off and turning around to fetch a tray out of what looked like a fancy mini fridge. “’Cause there’s somethin’ I might wanna start serving for fall, but I wasn’t sure about it yet. I was experimenting this afternoon and I need taste testers.” Bitty placed a small tart on a ceramic plate and slid it across the counter to Jack. “Stiles, my barista, can’t be trusted on food opinions. He’ll eat anything. So, I’ve been asking customers.”

“Bits, you say something?” a voice asked from around the corner.

“No, don’t worry about it!” Bitty called back.

A lanky guy appeared in the doorway behind the counter, all awkward limbs and tousled hair. He dried his hands off on a towel which he then flipped up onto his shoulder.

“Are you still telling people about my inept taste buds?”

“You once thought paprika was cinnamon, Stiles.”

“An easy mistake to make!” The barista, Stiles, placed his hands on his hips, addressing Jack. “He’s only half right. I may or may not have some mild nerve damage on my tongue from drinking too much hot coffee. But I think the final straw was the pizza bites I microwaved and ate before they cooled off last night. The roof of my mouth is permanently singed.”

“In that case, I guess I have to try your sample,” Jack said, with a shy smile at Bitty. Stiles kept talking, not seeming to notice Jack’s interjection.

“We need all the volunteers we can get. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it. ‘Cause this mouth is currently out of commission, you couldn’t pay me to put anything in here.” He paused. “Okay, I now realize how that last part sounded—”

“Stiles,” Bitty said. “Kitchen. Please.”

“Right.” Stiles made finger guns at Bitty and whipped the towel off his shoulder before exiting.

“I apologize for his. Um. Stiles is my cousin,” Bitty explained. “A very distant one. Through marriage only. I promised his daddy he could have a job when he moved here from California to go to school, and ya know, bless his heart.”

Jack and Bitty stared at each other. To fill the silence, Jack took a bite of the tart.

“Anyway,” Bitty continued. “I’ve put this pumpkin filling in a mini tart shell for starters, but it could have pie potential. What do you think?”

Jack thought about Shitty’s orgasmic pie comment, and then wished he hadn’t, the tips of his ears going hot. Jack just nodded.

“Good.” He took another bite. It wasn’t too sweet, with a balance of spices and something nutty too. Jack salivated. “Actually, very good. Wow.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, shit. Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to curse at you.”

“No worries,” Bitty said, looking perfectly pleased with himself. “Well, I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks for bein’ my guinea pig.”

\---

Stiles finished wiping down the counter around the kitchen sink, whistling as he did, then tossing the used rag into the laundry hamper.

“Stiles,” Bitty said, peering in the doorway, “can you go ahead and man the counter again? I’m gonna do the prep for tomorrow if you want to start closing duties in the next twenty minutes or so.”

“You got it, boss. You don’t have to tell me twice. You can consider the job well and truly—”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah, I’m going.”

Stiles was cleaning the espresso machine when a guy came bursting through the front door, the collar of his shirt drenched with sweat. It was one of those long-sleeved Under Armour shirts, so the shirt clung to him like a second skin, his perfectly sculpted arms still apparent under the damp fabric. He combed his fingers through equally damp strands of dark hair which, instead of being gross, turned his hairdo into that artfully messy look. If Stiles had gone anywhere that sweaty he would look like a drowned rat, but _this_ guy. Holy shit. It looked that kind of glisteny, shiny sweat you only see on the oiled-up muscles of models in magazines. Not that Stiles even read those kinds of magazines, you understand, but people see things.

Stiles was more worried by the fact that his very first thought when we saw this dark haired, muscular, thick-browed stranger come into the shop, was the word, “beefcake.” A word Stiles had never once used in any context in real life.

“Welcome to Bitty’s Brews and Bakes,” Stiles said, his voice cracking like a pubescent kid. The beefcake furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “What can I get started for you?”

“Double-shot latte with three sugars,” he said, all business, then paused with a frown. “And better use almond milk with that.”

“You want it iced?”

“Why would I want it iced?”

“You look,” Stiles swallowed, gesturing towards him, “warm.”

“Oh.” The guy plucked his shirt off his chest like he honestly hadn’t noticed. “Yeah, I was running.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles lowered his voice, “who were you running from?”

“Just a run? Like exercise?” The guy’s stupidly pretty eyes narrowed. Stiles couldn’t even tell what _color_ they were. “I’ve still got a paper to finish tonight, it helps me think.”

“Right,” Stiles mumbled, turning around to grab a mug. “Dumb joke, sorry.”

“That’ll be to-go,” the guy said lightly, digging in his pocket for his wallet.

Damn. Stiles wouldn’t have minded getting to stare at this guy a little longer. Oh well.

“Name for the order?” Stiles asked, raising his sharpie to the cardboard cup. There was absolutely no reason for him to do this, it wasn’t like there was a line of people behind him that would get their orders confused. Stiles just had to know.

“Derek,” he said, still looking into his wallet, avoiding Stiles’ eyes.

“I’m Stiles,” Stiles said. Derek just nodded, like he had no idea what to do with this information.

The guy who Bitty had given a sample to earlier was finally packing his stuff up to leave, and Stiles only realized then they were five minutes from closing anyway. Stiles waved goodnight as the guy shouldered his laptop bag, hovering like he was looking for something before walking out the door. A chill blew through the shop as the bell chimed and the door swung shut.

“Have a good night, Derek,” Stiles said, fitting the lid to Derek’s coffee after he had paid for it.

“You too,” Derek said, taking a sip of the steaming hot coffee like a true champ. His eyes widened, looking down at the cup, then at Stiles as if he was seeing him for the first time. “This is really good.”

“Our coffee’s all organic, fair trade,” Stiles said. “Also, I’m just a damn good barista.”

“I guess so.”

“Hey,” Stiles said. “Can I give you a pastry to go? On the house, we won’t be able to sell these tomorrow. We just end up donating them to the shelter on Gable Street anyway.”

“Oh, sure.” Derek was frowning again, but in what Stiles hoped was in less of an annoyed way now. A friendly frown, if you will. Or maybe Resting Frown Face.

“What would you like?” Stiles asked, grabbing a paper bag and a pair of tongs.

“Whatever your favorite is.”

“Double chocolate chip cookie it is, then.” Stiles tossed one in the bag, then added a second when he knew Derek was looking. “Enjoy.”

“Cool…thanks.”

Derek raised his coffee cup once more to him as he exited the shop, which was now completely vacant. Stiles went and locked the door after him, turning off the “OPEN” sign.

Stiles turned when he heard Bitty yawning behind him.

“You can head on home if you want,” Bitty said. “Everything’s basically done. I’ll tidy up and head out after you if you wanna just cash out the drawer.”

“Sure thing,” Stiles said. “Not a bad night.”

“No, not bad at all. A little slow, maybe.”

“But the quality of the customers was fuckin’ choice, don’t you think?”

“Stiles, what on earth are you talking about?”

“The guy who just left? I mean, you saw him, didn’t you? Dark hair, super athletic, crazy intense eyes?”

“Oh,” Bitty said, looking over at one of the empty tables. “Yes, him.”

“I don’t like objectifying anybody, but Bitty. He was so hot.”

“He was hot,” Bitty agreed.

“I think I’m gonna marry him.”

“Please do not propose to my customers.”

“This is out of my hands, dude, I think he’s the love of my life.”

“Sure, Stiles,” Bitty said, with a fond eyeroll. “We’ll just have to see if he ever comes back.”

\---

Derek went back to Bitty’s Brews and Bakes every day for over a week. It was only ever to stop in, grab a coffee and go, but it had quickly become a part of his daily routine. It was just because he liked the coffee, Derek told himself. The burnt beans from the cafeteria were garbage and Annie’s was only open in the mornings.

Also, Stiles the barista had started making special drinks for him. Normally, it’d be annoying for someone in the service industry to just ignore what he asked for and do whatever they wanted. But for some reason with Stiles it was…endearing wasn’t exactly the right word. Surprising? Sure, but nicer than that. Well, that was it. It was just nice.

It occurred to Derek, a couple weeks into his evening coffee runs, that it would be far more productive to bring his work with him, and drink his coffee while it was hot, than bringing it back to his dorm to work into the night. Also, Stiles had told him he should hang around sometime, instead of disappearing mysteriously into the night. Though maybe he had been joking. Derek could never really tell when he was joking.

Regardless, Derek brought his notes and laptop to the café on Tuesday night, which he knew was half-off baked goods with purchase of a drink night. He had their schedule memorized.

Maybe Derek needed more hobbies.

Stiles grinned from behind the counter when Derek came in, then he eyed his backpack.

“What’s with the bag tonight, Derek?” he asked.

“I was, uh, gonna stay a while. Get some work done. If that’s okay.”

“Abso _lutely_ it’s okay,” Stiles said, gleefully grabbing the ceramic mugs. “Go find a place to sit, I’ll bring it over to you.”

“I haven’t told you what I want.”

“I know what you want.”

“I also haven’t paid for it.”

“I’ll put it on your tab.” Stiles winked. “Now go before my boss starts asking questions.”

Stiles shooed him away and Derek rolled his eyes, shoving some bills in the tip jar when Stiles turned his back.

Derek took a glance around the room for an empty table near an outlet. His laptop battery was hanging on by a thread and basically only worked if it was plugged in. The café was busier than usual. Word must have gotten out about the half-off baked goods deal, almost every table had an empty plate with crumbs or a half-eaten piece of pie on it. The only option Derek could see was a small, high-top table in the corner, adjacent to the counter. It was directly next to another guy, using the same outlet, wearing a Samwell Athletics t-shirt (Derek actually had the same one, he had almost worn it that day) and a red baseball cap. Derek was pretty sure he had seen this guy around the café more than once, he looked familiar.

Derek set his things down on the table, setting up his laptop and pulling out the charger before he realized there was no subtle way of getting around this guy to plug it in.

“Sorry to bother you,” Derek said, as the guy looked up from his own laptop, “but can I share the outlet behind you?”

“Ah, sure,” he said. He had a bit of an accent Derek couldn’t place. Could be Minnesota, Derek thought, or thereabouts. He extended his hand for Derek’s charger. “I can get it for you.”

“Thanks,” Derek said, watching as the guy twisted around to wrestle with the outlet. “Also, you look really familiar. Did we have a class together?”

“Maybe? I’m a history major.”

Derek shook his head. “Spanish Lit.”

“I captain the hockey team? Jack Zimmermann.”

“That’s it,” Derek snapped his fingers. “I saw you at the NCAA meeting at the start of semester. Derek Hale, basketball captain.”

“Oh, yeah, good to see you again.” Jack shook his hand. “This place is pretty good, eh?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, finally taking a seat and spreading his notes out. “I’ve never really stayed to get work done, but the coffee is great.”

“I’ve been working here a lot. I live in the Haus, er, the hockey frat. It gets…loud.”

“I bet. I’ve been to some of those kegsters, man. I think I’m still deaf in one ear.”

“Right? Anyway, the people here are really nice. I mean, the guys that work here.”

“They are,” Derek agreed, just as he saw Stiles round the counter with a steaming mug of coffee.

“One extra sweet almond milk latte surprise, for one favorite customer,” Stiles said, carefully placing the coffee on his table a safe distance from his notes.

Derek’s face grew hot, though he was sure Stiles told every customer they were his favorite. “What’s the surprise?”

“You’ll see,” Stiles said.

Derek figured that would be all, but then Stiles stood there, watching Derek expectantly. So, Derek took a small sip off the top of the mug. It was, as always, the perfect temperature. Hot, but not scalding. He tasted the smooth coffee, the nutty almond milk, then…spice? Cinnamon, he realized. And something else.

“Is there cardamom in this?” Derek asked.

“Damn, you’re good,” Stiles said, delighted. “Bitty’s been using it in his scones, I wanted a beverage to pair with them.”

“Well, this is delicious.”

“Cool, cool,” Stiles said, seemingly not knowing what to do with his hands. He rested them on the table, then his hips, then back on the table, to fiddling with the apron strings tied around the front of his waist. “I guess I’ll let you do your thang.” Stiles turned to Jack, smiling and placing a hand on his table. “Everything still alright over here?” Jack nodded at him, having already delved deep back into his work. “Cool coolcoolcoolcool. Welp, you know where to find me. I’ll be over there. You know. Okay, bye.”

Derek smiled after him, and it suddenly hit him exactly why he was so invested in this café. Which was, of course, not about the café at all. God, he was so stupid.

Derek panicked. He took out his phone and sent off a quick text to his older sister, Laura, without any context or preamble.

 **Derek:** Help, I have a big, stupid crush on my barista.

After a few seconds, Laura replied, helpful as always.

 **Laura:** Hahahahahahaha

 **Laura:** Classic

\---

Bitty was having a miserable evening. Well, miserable was a tad overdramatic. He’d certainly had worse evenings in his life, and lord, he did not need to go _there_ while he was at work. Yet here he was, heartsick and miserable, watching Jack the handsome hockey player work diligently in the corner of his café instead of paying attention to him.

Bitty sighed, scratching his pen on the spare napkin on his counter, doodling cursive J’s and little hearts over and over again.

It was silly, Bitty knew it was. But it was harmless, wasn’t it? To admire a customer from afar? With no real hope of it ever evolving into anything more?

Bitty sighed again.

Bitty was so involved in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice when Jack stood up from his table until he was halfway to the counter. Bitty perked up, his heart fluttering as Jack graced him with one of his shy smiles.

Oh, what Bitty wouldn’t do for those smiles.

“I was wondering if I could get a refill?” Jack said, resting his elbow on the counter and lifting his mug. Bitty plucked it from his hand, turning around for the pot of drip coffee being kept warm on the hot plate.

“Sure thing, honey,” Bitty said, the endearment slipping out. Jack didn’t seem to notice, or mind. Then Bitty placed the mug back in his hand, the whole interaction over far too soon. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Uh, no, that’s it. Thanks.”

Jack walked back to his table and Bitty resigned himself to a life of loneliness and sorrow.

Two more customers came in, taking Bitty’s attention away from his moping, and when they were taken care of he turned to find Jack back by the counter.

“Jack,” Bitty grinned, “something else?”

“The guy next to me, Derek, didn’t realize you did free refills when you stay in the store. I offered to get his.”

“Very nice of you,” Bitty said, looking over Jack’s shoulder to see another athletic looking guy hunched over his laptop. “What’s his order?”

“Um, he said he didn’t know.”

Bitty frowned. “He what now?”

“He said ‘ask Stiles.’”

“I’ll get him on it.” Bitty called for Stiles from where he was grinding more coffee beans. When Bitty pointed the customer in question Stiles nodded his understanding, before literally hopping to it. Bitty went back to where Jack was waiting.

“Stiles is fixing it now; we can bring it over to you.”

“That’s okay, you guys have been kinda busy. I’ll wait.”

“Alright then.” Bitty fidgeted with his fingers. He finally had his wish for Jack’s full attention, and now he had absolutely no idea what to say. “So. Hockey, huh?”

 _Oh, for the love of_ …Bitty mentally facepalmed himself.

“Yup,” Jack said.

“I used to watch a hockey practice sometimes,” Bitty said, suddenly remembering. “There was a co-ed club that would come into the rink after my figure skating practice.”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “You skate?”

“I used to skate. Junior Southern Regional champion, medaled three years in a row, thank you very much.”

“Wow. But you don’t anymore?”

“No, only for fun in winter sometimes.”

“Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, well, I wasn’t really good enough for the Olympics or anything like that. Other boys my age were already moving up to the senior division and I couldn’t compete with them. Also, I was a part of a technical program at my high school and I started really focusing on that so I could get an early acceptance to culinary school. I really wanted to get out of my hometown. I’m sorry, you didn’t ask for my whole life story.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you for sharing.”

“What about you? Always hockey?”

“Always hockey,” Jack agreed with a laugh. It was the first time Bitty had heard a real laugh from him and he already needed to hear it again. “My dad was in the NHL.”

“Oh, wow!”

“I’m not saying that to like, brag or something. Just saying that hockey’s always been a part of my life.”

“No, I understand.”

“I was in my first pair of skates by the time I was two years old.”

“Aw, how sweet!”

“So, uh, I always played growing up, played for juniors in high school. Got a little off track and didn’t get drafted then, so now I’m playing here.”

“But you still wanna be drafted and play for the NHL?”

“That’s the goal. Haha.”

The man really laughed at his own puns. Bitty was suddenly and overwhelmingly turned on by that for some reason.

“How exciting!” Bitty rested his chin in both his hands. “I’d love to see you play sometime.”

“Really?” Jack scratched the back of his neck. “Well, we—”

“One specialty refill,” Stiles said, bringing the mug back to the counter. “Sorry that took so long, had to put more cardamom in the spice grinder.”

“What are you using my cardamom for?”

“Uh,” Stiles blinked innocently. “New potential menu item?”

Bitty narrowed his eyes, but Jack interrupted and took the mug. Stiles took his chance and slipped away before Bitty could ask more questions.

“I guess I’ll take this back then.”

“Oh, right,” Bitty said, sad that this was apparently the end of their conversation. Jack was surprisingly easy to talk to. A good listener, polite, and genuinely interested in what Bitty had to say.

“Thesis won’t write itself,” Jack said with a shrug.

“True,” Bitty said. Then with a glance over to the table he said quickly, “I see neither of you took advantage of the half-off baked goods! Is there anything you want?”

“Oh, hmm, maybe. I could use a snack break. What do you recommend?”

“I’ve got a fresh maple sugar crusted apple pie today.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“Thought you might like that,” Bitty said, already leaning down to pull it out of the case.

“Why, ‘cause of the maple for the Canadian, eh?” Jack teased.

“Somethin’ like that,” Bitty said lightly with a smile. Jack snorted. “I’ll heat it up for y’all, go on and get back to work.”

Bitty brought over the two plates of warm pie (with a scoop of house-made vanilla bean ice cream, just to make it proper) and was rewarded with many appreciative moans from both Jack and Derek.

“You boys let me know if you need anything at all, you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said with little half-smile at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, Bitty.”

Bitty went warm all the way to his toes.

Bitty returned to his spot behind the counter, leaning his elbows on bakery case, and Stiles sidled up next to him. They both watched as Jack and Derek quietly spoke with one another between sips of coffee and bites of pie.

“He really is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” Bitty said.

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “He really is.”

They both sighed in unison, then got back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's Part 1! What will happen when Stiles and Bitty confront the fact they think they're crushing on the same guy? Will Jack and Derek ever stop being awkward nerds? Will Stiles ever make the beverage that Derek actually ordered?? 
> 
> Stay tuned to find out! PART 2 will be posting this Friday!! Subscribe to me here on Ao3, or follow me on [tumblr](https://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/), and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Edgarallanrose1) to make sure you catch the next update! 
> 
> If you're enjoying this fic, please feel free to share my posts for it on [tumblr](https://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/post/189435666870/check-pleaseteen-wolf-crossover-zimbits) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/Edgarallanrose1/status/1201570920265134081?s=20)
> 
> I would love to hear any of your thoughts and feedback on Part 1! Thanks for reading!


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IN WHICH: Shitty educates about basic workplace boundaries and respect, Stiles and Bitty expertly lip sync to Nicki Minaj, and Jack is ready for someone to catch these hands!

“Yo, Earth to Jack,” Shitty said, waving a gloved hand in front of his face as he leaned over the boards, the noise of practice competing with his voice. Jack looked up from where he was sitting on the bench, helmet in his lap.

“Sorry, what?”

“Where’s your head today, my dude?”

“Why, am I off out there?”

“No, your playing is perfect, your playing is always perfect, you know this. But _I_ can tell you’ve got something on your mind.”

“How?”

“You didn’t even say anything when Nursey stole Dex’s stick and started using them as ‘ski poles’ right in the middle of a set up.”

“Oh. I guess I didn’t notice.”

“That’s what I’m saying, brah. Something going on with class? With your dad?”

“No, nothing like that. I—” Jack mumbled, staring at the ground. “I wanna ask someone out.”

“Wait, Jack.” Shitty’s face split into shit-eating grin. “Say that again.”

“There’s someone I want to ask out. But I don’t know how.”

“Who? Why have you been holding out on me? Deets, bro!”

“The owner of that bakery coffee shop. His name is Bitty.”

“Shut the fuck up, that guy is so cute.”

“I know, Shits. I know.”

“Him and Lards are lowkey buds. But listen, you can’t ask him out.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you can’t while he’s at work. It’s literally his job to be nice to you while you’re there, the power dynamic is totally fucked. Even if he wants to say yes, you’re putting him in an awkward position.”

“Oh.” Jack frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. But I don’t see him anywhere else.”

“So, you gotta get him somewhere else. Do some detective work. He can’t work all the time.”

“I dunno, it kinda seems like he does.” Jack bit at his cuticles, considering. “He did mention wanting to come see a game.”

“Dude! That’s such a good in! Get him comps to the matty game on Saturday! Then you can talk to him afterwards. He’ll be so blown away by your mad skills he couldn’t possibly say no.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiled. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Shits.”

“You know I’ve got you, bro.”

“Zimmermann!” Coach Murray called from behind him. “Back in the game!”

Jack fixed his helmet, and skated out to position, feeling energized.

He had a plan.

That night at the café Jack could not stop squirming. His leg bounced, he kept shuffling and re-shuffling his papers and books. He hadn’t gotten any actual work done (though, truth be told, he often didn’t have a whole lot to do anyway, he just needed to occupy himself to sit in the café).

Derek had been working next to him, though he was currently at the counter talking to Bitty while Stiles remade whatever elaborate drink he had concocted that evening. Jack liked Derek, though his only basis for liking him was though their minimal interactions arranging their laptop chargers and taking turns getting refills. Jack had a lot of outgoing friends, and he liked that, but he also appreciated Derek’s more intentional way of speaking, and quiet when conversation wasn’t needed. Jack didn’t have a lot of friends outside the team, so it was nice to be in different company every once in a while.

When Derek came back with both their mugs, setting Jack’s black coffee near his hand where he was incessantly tapping a pen against the table, he took a long look at Jack.

“Maybe I should cut you off,” Derek said.

“Huh?”

“Caffeine jitters,” Derek said, pointing to his hand.

“Oh, no, it’s not that.”

“What’s up?” Derek took his seat, blowing lightly over his mug.

“Just nervous, I guess.”

“About your thesis?”

“No, I. Um. I’m gonna ask him out,” Jack said, nodding toward the counter, where Bitty was laughing about something with Stiles.

“Who?” Derek looked over his laptop, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “ _Him?_ ”

“Yeah, I just. Not here, not now obviously. I can’t while he’s at work.”

“Right, that’d be rude,” Derek mumbled into his mug.

“Exactly. But I thought I’d ask him to my game on Saturday, talk to him then.”

“I see.”

When Derek didn’t say anything else, Jack took a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Derek was glaring at his laptop screen, jaw clenching. Jack got a sinking feeling in his gut, which slowly turned into heat and rage.

“Is that…a problem? Because if so, you shouldn’t be at Samwell.”

“What?” Derek’s eyes flitted up before looking away again. “No, god, it’s not the gay thing, or bi, or whatever. Just… _him_? Really?”

Jack didn’t even have a second to be pleased Derek acknowledged the existence of bisexuality before he was angry again.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“The thing is, Jack, he actually just agreed to come to my game on Friday.”

“You—oh. Okay then.”

Jack turned back to his books. The atmosphere that was previously comfortable and warm like a good blanket was instantaneously gone. The covers had been thrown off, leaving Jack anxious and cold with an underlying feeling of _what the fuck_.

Then Jack thought about how Derek was there practically as often as him. There might even be times he came in when Jack wasn’t there just to get Bitty alone. He was always hovering around the counter, chatting, laughing. His seat, like Jack, strategically placed to keep Bitty in view as often as possible.

Jack had competition, and he hadn’t even noticed.

But if Jack was nothing else, he was certainly competitive as hell. And he planned to win.

\---

Stiles was having a fucking stellar evening.

All the customers had left, and they were finishing the closing duties. Bitty had switched the music over the speakers to something more fun than the snooze fest they played during business hours. “Barbie Tingz” was blasting while Stiles mopped the floor.

“Let's be real, all you bitches wanna look like me. Wanna be in demand, get booked like me,” Stiles rapped along, twerking with his dancing partner/mop.

Derek had asked him to a game. _Derek_. Hot Derek. Who Stiles was never sure actually liked him or just tolerated him. But now, Stiles figured, he could safely assume he at least liked him a little. Now Stiles could really put the moves on him. He’d be irresistible, Derek wouldn’t know what hit him. Then Derek would get down on one knee and propose and Stiles would say yes and they’d have a beautiful beachside wedding and they’d honeymoon in Paris and they would adopt a baby – no, two babies. Wait, twins! And then—

Okay. Maybe Stiles was getting ahead of himself. But things were certainly feeling less hopeless than they had been.

By the time Stiles had worked his way back to the front of the store with the mop, Bitty was there at the register, dancing while he counted the drawer and joining in with Stiles for the hook.

“I'm a bad bitch, fuck the bitch. Bitch get slick, I'ma cut the bitch!”

“Stiles, you will not believe what happened tonight,” Bitty said, still shaking to the beat, miming throwing dollar bills in the air.

“Dish, bro.”

“So, I was clearing the dishes earlier, like I do.”

“Right, like ya do.”

“And he just came up and started talkin’ to me!”

“He?”

“That handsome, dark-haired athlete!”

“Oh.” Stiles’ good mood faltered. “What’d he say?”

“He was all, ‘I don’t know if you’re too busy this weekend,’ and I was all, ‘I should be free!’ Like a damn fool, not even lettin’ him finish his sentence. Then, get this, he invited me to his game!”

Stiles went completely cold. His hands gripped the mop so tightly they went numb.

“Oh,” was all Stiles seemed to be able to squeak out again.

“Don’t worry, it’s in the afternoon, so I’ll still be here before we open. But Stiles,” Bitty said, lowering his voice, eyes wide and excited, “I think he might wanna ask me out!”

“Or he was just being nice,” Stiles couldn’t help but say.

Since apparently Derek just wanted everybody to come out and fill seats for the basketball game. Stiles wasn’t special. He probably just had tickets he needed to get rid of and no one important to give them to.

Bitty blinked. “You think so?”

“I mean, doesn’t he give you straight, dudebro vibes anyway?” Stiles stabbed his mop back into the bucket, sloshing water onto the floor. Stiles should’ve known it was all too good to be true.

“Well, at first, maybe.” Bitty chewed his lip, reaching for his phone to turn down the music so they didn’t have to keep raising their voice over Nicki Minaj. “But sometimes, the way he smiles at me…I just thought—”

“Yeah, well, I thought so, too!”

Stiles dragged his fingers through his hair. He was so frustrated he wanted to cry. It was stupid to be this upset over a guy he didn’t even have in the first place. His dad, and his therapist, and basically all his childhood friends, were always telling him that he latched on too fast, gave himself up wholly and completely to people who may not be interested in returning his feelings with matched intensity. He just really thought it was going somewhere this time.

Meanwhile, Bitty’s face had turned to stone.

“What?” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

Stiles sat down at one of the tables, putting his head in his hands.

“Bitty, he had been coming in like three times a night to get his three-sugar, almond milk lattes from me. I once saw him literally dump one in the trash outside as he left because I think he just wanted an excuse to come in and see me. I’ve been trying to flirt so he knows that I’m interested, but also I’ve gotta keep it professional because I’m on the clock. Though I now realize my efforts may have gone unnoticed because _apparently_ you’ve been ignoring my giant crush and flirting with him too!”

“Excuse me, I have not—” Bitty stopped mid finger-wag, mouth screwing to the side. “Wait. What did you say his drink order was?”

“Almond milk latte, three sugars. Though I’ve been experimenting with the added flavoring for him. And he sometimes adds espresso shots when he’s feeling particularly stressed. Which, come to think of it, is probably not helping the stress. Maybe I should turn him on to some chamomile or something—”

“Jack’s only ever ordered black coffee when I serve him,” Bitty said. “He doesn’t even take sugar.”

“Jack?” Stiles shook his head. “Who the hell is Jack?”

“The handsome, dark-haired hockey player! Who the hell are you talking about?”

“Uh. Derek. The handsome, dark-haired basketball player.”

They both stared at each other in silence as Nicki Minaj softly crooned “Anaconda” in the background.

“Good lord,” Bitty said at the same time that Stiles said, “Jesus Christ.”

“Bitty, I’m so sorry.”

“No!” Bitty said with placating hands, laughing as he came around the counter. “Honestly, this might be the funniest thing that’s ever happened to me. I thought you were pining for Jack, too! The way you kept talking about him. Or, Derek, I suppose.”

“Is this what it’s like when you’re not the sole appointed Gay Cousin TM of the family anymore?”

Bitty laughed harder and Stiles cracked a smile, though he was still horrifically embarrassed. Bitty took a seat across from Stiles at the table.

“Looks like there is room for at least two gay cousins after all.”

“Are you sure it’s only two? I’m just saying, our cousin Jenny is highly suspect.”

“Oh, I forgot about Jenny. Hmm,” Bitty thought. “If so, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Deal.”

“So,” Bitty said with a put-upon sigh, “what are we gonna do about these boys?”

Stiles smiled, leaning in towards Bitty.

“Make them love us, of course.”

\---

“And so now I’ve found out the guy who always sits next to me is after him, too,” Derek said, angrily waving a forkful of scrambled eggs. “He’s actually a really decent guy, which is just an additional inconvenience. Makes it hard to hate him.”

“Wow,” Laura said, sipping her coffee. “Is he hot? Like is he real competition?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good looking. And he’s a hockey player. You would not believe the size of his ass.”

Laura laughed. “Are you sure you’re not actually into him instead of the barista?”

“I just see what I see,” Derek shrugged.

Laura had offered to treat Derek to brunch at Jerry’s. Laura was a paralegal in Boston, and as the “successful” sibling of the family made it her business to check in on Derek at semi-regular intervals. Derek didn’t mind. He loved his sister, and she gave good advice, even if it was almost always advice he wasn’t ready to hear.

“Maybe you should kick his giant ass,” Laura suggested. “I bet you could take him.”

“Laura.”

“Just saying.” Laura took the napkin off her lap and tossed it onto her empty plate. “In all seriousness, Der, there’s really nothing you can do about it. It’s Stiles’ decision, and you’re going to have to respect that. Make your interest known, like explicitly tell him in an adult conversation, and let him make his choice. And don’t be an asshole about it.”

“Why would I be an asshole to someone I like?”

“Because I remember every other crush you’ve ever had since middle school.” Laura raised an eyebrow. “You’re a classic pigtail puller. It’s how you cope with your feelings.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No,” Laura sighed. “You’re not. Speaking of, have you decided what to do for your thesis next year?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That sounds promising.”

Derek gave a noncommittal grunt.

“And did you look into the Fulbright scholarship applications yet?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Derek. Clock’s ticking.”

“Yeah, thanks mom, I know.”

Laura didn’t exactly deserve his petulance, but he was stressed enough knowing he was graduating with no real plans to pursue basketball professionally and no real plans to use his Spanish literature degree. His only plan was to just keep accumulating degrees and defer his student loans until he died. In addition to that, he was still in a bad mood thinking about how Jack the giant-assed hockey player was going to seduce his barista away. Derek rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My mind’s a little all over the place right now. Have you heard from Cora lately?”

“I facetimed her yesterday. She’s still hippying it up in Washington, harvesting wild mushrooms and probably getting high on whatever the hell else in that commune.”

“I thought she said it was a sustainable farming internship?”

“That’s what she calls it, sure.”

Derek snorted. “She’ll be fine, she can take care of herself.”

“I know she can, and no one can dissuade her from an idea once she’s made up her mind. She’s the only one in this family more stubborn than you.”

“I’d argue if it weren’t true. It’s only because she’s the youngest, we let her get away with too much when we were little.”

“Maybe so,” she nodded. “What else do you have going on today?”

“Class, then practice for the game tomorrow. Then I’ll probably end up at the café tonight to finish a short writing assignment.”

“And stare at Stiles some more.”

“Yeah,” Derek smiled. “That too. He wants to go to do criminal justice stuff too, you know. He’s finishing his AA right now, gonna transfer to Samwell next year. Maybe you should meet him sometime.”

“Already wanting to introduce him to the family? You must really like this guy.”

“I know,” Derek groaned. “He’s just…I don’t know. He’s smart, he doesn’t miss a thing. He’s funny. And he’s got these fingers.”

“Fingers?”

“Yes, fingers. I like his fingers, okay? I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, Laura.”

Laura laughed. “Well, first of all, you’re head over heels for a kid named _Stiles_.”

“Yeah, I still don’t know what the deal with that is.” Derek laughed with her. “Anyway, I should get going. Thanks for brunch.”

“Anytime, little brother.”

Derek agreed to call her the next day to let her know how everything went, good or bad. Then they said their goodbyes with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, before Derek had to start counting down the hours until he could see Stiles again.

The café was packed that night, everyone in a crunch to finish their final assignments and go home early for Thanksgiving break, Derek guessed. Almost every table had students camped out with their laptops and piles of textbooks, but Derek’s usual high-top by the front was still open. Unfortunately, Jack was also in his usual spot right next to him.

Derek quickly set down his backpack on top of the table and threw his jacket over the chair, claiming it. All while avoiding eye contact with Jack, who ignored him just as hard. Then Derek finally went to the counter, where Bitty was standing at the register and Stiles was busy with at least four different drink orders, a horde of caffeine deprived students standing off to the side waiting for their name to be called.

“Welcome to Bitty’s Brews and Bakes,” Bitty said, a genial smile on his face. “How are you, Derek?”

“Oh, good,” Derek said, a little surprised Bitty remembered him by name. Though, he supposed, it must not be that unusual. He did own the place, and they had spoken a few times. He probably made it his business to know regular customers. “How are you?”

“Just peachy, thanks for askin’. What can I get started for you?”

“Almond milk latte with three sugars, please. And the double chocolate chip cookie,” Derek said, handing over his card. “You probably know, Stiles likes to experiment with my drinks sometimes, so if he does, feel free to charge me extra for whatever he uses.”

“Don’t even worry ‘bout that, alright? Stiles’ll bring everything on over in just a few minutes.”

“You sure?” Derek said, glancing around at how busy they were. “I don’t mind waiting for it.”

“Trust me, it’s no trouble.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Now Derek couldn’t put off sitting by Jack for a few minutes longer. He was being a coward, he knew that. Jack didn’t talk much on a normal day. He probably wouldn’t even bring anything up.

Derek sat down, Jack shifting automatically without a word so Derek could plug his laptop in. Derek rearranged his bag and his notes, so they were organized in front of him. Both he and Jack squared their shoulders away from each other, the tension palpable.

Derek was struck with a sudden flash of anger. Derek didn’t have the best track record with romantic relationships. In fact, almost all of them had consisted of him being taken advantage of or outright abused. He never had any kind of control, there was no balance. Now here was a person he was on equal footing with, whose company he enjoyed, that he could date like a normal person; and Jack wanted to take that away from him.

Derek was seething so intensely he didn’t notice that Stiles had approached his table, offering up a steaming hot mug of something that was undoubtedly not Derek’s order. Derek’s shoulders relaxed as he took in Stiles’ smile and he cleared a space on the table for the mug.

“New holiday drink,” Stiles said. “Hazelnut mocha. Or as I like to call it, Liquid Nutella.”

“Thanks, Stiles,” Derek said, taking a sip. It was a perfect balance of rich, sweet, and bitter, almost thick on his tongue.

Derek gave a noise of appreciation and a thumbs up, since he couldn’t stop drinking it long enough to give Stiles any verbal feedback. However, in his head he was thinking that he was going to marry this boy and have him make the coffee every single morning. That was the only clear path from there on out, nothing else to it.

“Good, huh?” Stiles said with a lopsided grin. Derek nodded, then Stiles turned to Jack. “Jack, how are you doing? Need me to top you off?

Before Jack could answer, Bitty came around the corner with two plates in his hand. He set down the warm cookie in front of Derek and then a slice of pie in front of Jack.

“There you are, honey, sorry that took so long,” Bitty said.

Jack stared daggers at Derek. Derek glared back.

“Y’all doin’ alright over here?”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Neither of them broke eye contact.

“Okay, then,” Bitty said. “Well, I hope you like everything.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Bitty.”

“Thanks, Stiles.”

Derek’s eye twitched as he held Jack’s gaze while Bitty and Stiles slowly backed away. When they were finally out of hearing distance, Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Jack cut him off first.

“You know he’s coming to my game on Saturday.”

Derek pursed his lips, opened again, then frowned. “He is?”

“Yeah. Asked him yesterday.”

“Well, he’s still coming to my game tomorrow. Maybe he just likes sports.”

“I bet he likes hockey better.”

“Bet he’ll freeze his ass off and leave before the first period ends.”

“Bet he’ll get so bored at your game that he falls asleep.”

“Jack,” Derek snapped, getting up from his chair. “Can we take this outside?”

“Sure, we can.”

Jack stood up as well, rolling his neck and clenching then unclenching his fists. Derek was a bit shocked that Jack seemed to be ready to physically fight him, since he was always so quiet and polite. Then Derek remembered that the game of hockey was basically just boxing on ice. This guy was used to hitting and getting hit. Suddenly, this all seemed like a very bad idea.

“Just to talk,” Derek clarified.

“Okay,” Jack said, but his eyes narrowed, and he didn’t seem to relax.

Derek walked to the exit at the back of the café, so they wouldn’t be arguing outside where customers were coming and going, and held the door open for Jack which led into a small alleyway by the dumpsters.

Jack turned around and crossed his arms, waiting for Derek to speak.

“Listen,” Derek said, “I know we both like the same guy, and I’m not going to try and tell you to back off or anything, I just want us both to agree to accept his decision, no matter what.”

Jack nodded. “Of course.” He held out his hand. “Deal.”

Derek shook. They both shuffled their feet for a minute. Derek rubbed at his arms; he had left his jacket inside.

“I don’t wanna be an asshole,” Jack finally said with a sigh. “I actually think you’re a really nice guy.”

“Yeah, same,” Derek said. “That’s why this sucks so much.”

“Right. I just.” Jack huffed, frustrated. “I never really get crushes, you know? I’ve had girlfriends, I’ve had boyfriends. Well, boyfriend, just the one. And it’s all been okay, but my head is occupied by hockey basically 24/7. I don’t spend a lot of time paying attention to anything else, or anyone else. But I don’t know. I walked in here one day and saw him and that was it for me.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Then he was so nice. And I couldn’t stop staring at the way his nose kind of slopes at the end, and the way his hair sticks up in the back, and his big smiles, and, this might be a weird thing to be into, but he’s just so _small_.”

Derek had been nodding along to everything Jack was saying, because he had the exact same thoughts, but the last one stopped him short.

“He’s not that small,” Derek argued. “He’s only a little shorter than me, and you and I are almost the same height.”

“Are you kidding? He barely comes up to my chin.”

“Jack,” Derek said slowly, “who are you talking about?”

Jack’s eyes widened as he started to come to the same conclusion. “I’m talking about Bitty. And you’re talking about—”

“Stiles,” Derek finished.

Jack swore something in French and Derek swore in Spanish.

“I’m such an idiot,” Derek said. “Jack, I’m sorry.”

“No, me too,” Jack said. “Jeez. Well, that’s a relief, I guess.”

“I guess.” They both laughed uncomfortably. “I don’t think it’s weird, by the way, that you like Bitty being small.”

“Ah, good. Thanks.”

“I mean, I’m really into Stiles’ fingers.”

“His fingers?”

“Yes. And I don’t know why I keep volunteering that information.”

Jack laughed. “Well then, at least now I can wish you an honest good luck with him tomorrow.”

“Yeah, and good luck to you on Saturday with Bitty.”

Jack just smiled and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe how ridiculous all this had been. Derek probably had a similar expression on his face.

“Going back inside?” Jack asked, grabbing the handle of the door.

“Yeah, in a minute,” Derek said. “I’m gonna try and call my sister real quick.”

Jack gave him a nod and stepped into the warm glow of the coffee shop.

Derek took his phone out of his back pocket, still intermittently laughing a little as he dialed his sister. Laura was going to get such a kick out of it.

Laura didn’t answer, so Derek started to tap out a text when he heard a crash behind the dumpster beside him, and someone hiss, “Shit!”

“Hello?” Derek called out. “Are you okay?”

Stiles stepped out from behind the dumpster, dragging a partially ripped trash bag with him.

“I was eavesdropping,” Stiles said quickly. He winced. “I mean, I came to take out the garbage, and couldn’t really help eavesdropping. Sorry.”

“Okay,” Derek said, slightly frozen, afraid to betray any emotion at all. “How much did you hear?”

“Basically everything,” Stiles said.

“I see.”

A pause passed between them.

“Oh!” Stiles said, dropping the trash bag. “Sorry, yeah, I like you, too! Like, super-like you. Like you so much.”

Derek whooshed out a breath and bent over, placing his hands on his knees.

“Could’ve led with that, Stiles.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles laughed, going over and placing a hand on Derek’s arm as Derek straightened back up. “You were so nervous! I figured you knew I had major hots for you.”

“I mean. I had hoped.”

“Your dreams are now a reality, baby.”

“Oh god,” Derek rolled his eyes with a laugh. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“Nothing yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, are you still really gonna wait until tomorrow to ask me out?”

“Oh.” Derek blinked. “Stiles, do you want to go out with me?”

“Hell yes.”

They stared at each other, Stiles’ hand still on Derek’s arm, and Derek’s hands had found their way to Stiles’ waist. Stiles placed his other hand on the side of Derek’s neck, then slid up to his cheek. Derek mirrored his touch, brushing his thumb over the beauty mark that lay just inside of Stiles’ dimple.

“Derek, can I kiss you?” Stiles asked.

“Hell yes.”

And then Stiles threw both of his arms around Derek’s neck, dragging him to down to meet his lips as he surged up. Their mouths crashed together, graceless, hot, and frantic.

It was awesome.

Stiles’ lips were warm against his, his body arching towards Derek, moaning these small, happy noises. Derek took a hold of Stiles head, slowing him down and controlling the kiss. Their lips parted and Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s middle, bringing their bodies together. Derek rested his forehead against Stiles, their noses brushing. _God,_ he loved that nose.

“I do have one favor to ask,” Derek said.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked, his voice a bit hoarse. Derek smiled.

“Don’t tell Bitty about Jack’s plan. Even if he’s already guessed it. Let it be a surprise.”

“Yeah, of course.” Stiles nodded against his forehead. “Now I just have one question for you.”

“Sure, anything.”

“So,” Stiles clasped their hands together and he pulled back to look Derek right in the eye. “You like my fingers, huh?”

Derek groaned, tugging Stiles back in and kissing the laughter right out of his mouth.

\---

Bitty lingered by the back door of Faber Memorial Rink, where Jack had instructed him to wait after the game. Bitty had never sat through a full live hockey game before. The Samwell team was far more impressive than anything he saw from the hockey club at the rink back home. It was fast paced, it was thrilling, but most of all it gave him permission to stare at Jack without fear of repercussion for a solid two and a half hours.

Jack had even sought him out in the crowd at one point, and Bitty had waved. When Jack waved back Bitty almost couldn’t feel the chill of the ice a mere few feet from his seat, he was so thoroughly warmed all over.

Now he was outside and pulling his scarf tighter around his neck, the air temperature dropping as the sun began to disappear. Bitty scrolled and refreshed his twitter feed at least eleven times. His heart was in his throat. All this waiting around was just letting him get more and more nervous.

A couple of Jack’s teammates started to leave the building, duffle bags on their shoulders, hair damp from the showers. Some of them smiled at Bitty as they passed, but most of them were too caught up in the high of their win to notice him.

Finally, Jack emerged, in his athletics zip-up jacket and a beanie pulled down over his ears. He smiled at Bitty, and Bitty smiled anxiously back. Lord, he had never looked cuter.

“Hey,” Jack said.

“Hey.”

They both stood there, their easy conversation in the dim light of Bitty’s café somehow completely lost in an outside environment. Bitty stuffed his phone in his back pocket, forgetting his manners.

“Great game!” Bitty said. “I can’t say I know a whole lot about hockey, but I know enough about sports to spot a good player. You were amazing out there!”

“Ah, thanks,” Jack said, ducking his head. “It’s a good group of guys this year. They work hard.”

“And so do you.”

“I—yeah. I guess.”

“No need to be so modest,” Bitty said, nudging him a little. “Mister Future-NHL. You weren’t all shy when you shoved that guy into the boards earlier!”

“He was in my way,” Jack shrugged.

“Well, either way, it was nice to see what you do, since you already know what I do all day long, seven days a week.”

“Speaking of, it’s getting late. Should I walk you to work?”

“Oh!” Bitty said, barely containing his excitement. “Only if you have time. I mean, I’m sure you’re exhausted. You don’t have to—”

“I’d like to. If you don’t mind.”

“No, Jack. I don’t mind.”

They walked across the quad in companionable silence for a while, shooting each other the occasional shy smile. Bitty was almost overwhelmed by how compelled he was to reach out and take Jack’s hand. He shoved his hands in his pockets to resist the urge.

“I’ve never asked,” Jack said eventually. “Why do you have a coffee shop and bakery that’s only open at night? I mean, obviously it works. On a college campus and all, the late hours were how I found you in the first place. It’s just…different.”

“Jack Zimmermann, would you like to know a secret?”

“I would.”

“I am not a morning person.” Jack snorted at that, and Bitty laughed. “It’s true! Woe be to anyone who tries to wake me up before ten AM. When I was in school I learned practically all baking jobs start at four o’ clock in the morning. Four! Oh, I was so miserable during my internships. Then, when I had the opportunity to open my own place, I thought to hell with that. We’ll open as soon as I can function like a proper human being.”

“You know I get up at four every morning?”

“By choice?”

Jack nodded.

“Then I’m sorry to inform you that you’re a crazy person, Jack. My condolences on your condition.”

Jack laughed. “Also, opening your own place is really impressive. I don’t mean to be rude, but exactly how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Jeez. I’m twenty-four.”

“Well, I had help. I’m a little bit YouTube famous? It’s not important. But a couple celebrity chefs took interest in me and helped me start the business. I’ll tell you the whole story someday.”

“Bitty, that’s amazing.”

“It really is somethin’. Anyway,” Bitty said, embarrassed, “you’re going on to do great things, too.”

Bitty reached up to pat his arm. Jack caught his hand, holding onto it, and they both stopped walking. Jack looked Bitty in the eyes as he laced their fingers together.

“Your hands are cold,” Jack said.

“I forgot my gloves,” Bitty replied, unable to look away from those clear, blue eyes.

“Is this okay?” Jack asked, as he dropped their hands between them, giving Bitty’s hand a little squeeze.

Bitty squeezed back.

“Yes.”

They began walking again, bodies inching closer together on the sidewalk. Bitty thought his heart might burst straight through his chest it was knocking so hard against his ribs. Jack, the most wonderful boy in the known universe, was _holding his hand_. Bitty would say he felt like a teenager, getting this giddy over something so G-rated, but he couldn’t remember another time in his young life where he had ever felt this way. Not before Jack.

Soon, too soon, they crossed the bridge and were just across the way from the café. The lights were on, signaling that Stiles was already there, but the blinds were still pulled down. They didn’t open for another half an hour.

Bitty wasn’t sure when Jack planned to stop walking him and actually drop him off, as he had suggested, but he wasn’t making any moves to release his hand. They both paused for a moment looking at the café, then turning to each other.

“Jack, why don’t you come in and warm up for a sec? I’ll fix you somethin’.”

“You sure?”

“’Course I’m sure. Besides, I’m enjoying your company.” Bitty took Jack’s other hand but couldn’t meet his eyes. “Thank you for the ticket today, Jack. I really enjoyed watching you play. And I really enjoyed knowing you wanted me to see you play.”

“Oh. Yeah, thank you. Or, your welcome. Uh.”

Bitty giggled, stifling the worst of it, and Jack smiled and shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I need to ask you something before we go inside.”

“Oh.” Bitty held his breath. “What is it?”

“Um. I was gonna ask you out for coffee but only just now realized how stupid that sounds. Haha.”

Bitty couldn’t help it that time. He doubled over laughing. Jack laughed too, even as his face blushed as red as his Samwell jacket.

“Honey, I’d love to,” Bitty finally said when he caught his breath, much to Jack’s apparent relief. “We can go out wherever you want. Coffee, brunch, dinner, movies—”

“Skating?” Jack added hopefully.

“At the rink here?” Bitty asked, thinking of how wistful he had felt just looking at the beautiful afternoon sun light up that ice.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, Jack, do you mean it?”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled. “Just the two of us. Do you still have skates?”

“You know I do, sweetheart. And you may be better at contact sports, but I bet I could kick your behind in a race.”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “You’re fast, huh?”

“When I want to be,” Bitty winked.

Jack blinked, his mouth agape. For a second, Bitty thought he might faint.

“Jack, honey? You okay? It was only a joke.”

“God, Bits, you’re…” Jack stammered. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you I like you for weeks, but now I just find myself liking you even more than I thought I did.”

“Honey…” Bitty said, placing a cold hand against his warm cheek. Jack immediately leaned down and into the touch.

Bitty moved slowly, bringing his other hand to the center of Jack’s chest and lifting his chin, parting his lips in invitation. Jack wrapped both arms around Bitty’s waist, his eyes darting down repeatedly to Bitty’s mouth, but not making any other moves.

“I want you to kiss me,” Bitty said, since Jack seemed to need permission. Which was sweet, come to think of it, if Bitty weren’t so desperate to be kissed.

Jack didn’t need any further instructions. His lips were full and gentle, his hand coming up to cup Bitty’s chin and guide his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Bitty’s hand slid from Jack’s face to over his shoulder, tugging him closer. Jack responded by tightening his grip around Bitty’s back and leaning him into a small dip, and Bitty let himself swoon and be held and kissed within an inch of his life.

Jack pulled away with a quick kiss to the corner of Bitty’s mouth and, still holding him in the dip, met his gaze.

“How was that?” Jack asked.

“You want honest feedback?”

“Always, Bits.”

“The truth is, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through this shift after finding out you can kiss like that.”

Jack smiled, straightening up and pulling Bitty in close to his chest.

“I can kiss you again when your shift’s over.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Bitty lead Jack around through the employee entrance, stomping his feet on the rug as Jack offered to hang up his coat and scarf. The kitchen was still as warm and sweet smelling as Bitty had left it earlier that day.

“Wait, before we go out there,” Bitty said, as he tugged his apron over his head and quickly fastened the ties, “I need one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Another kiss,” Bitty said, tapping his lips as the corner of his mouth turned up into a smile.

Jack very kindly obliged with a chaste, sweet peck while Bitty saw a future where he could get drunk on the power of kisses on command.

“Hopefully Stiles has finished arranging the display case,” Bitty said, Jack trailing behind him as they headed out to the storefront. “But if he hasn’t, there may be some more stuff back in the kitchen that I can heat up for – OH, GOODNESS GRACIOUS!”

Bitty clutched his chest as Derek the basketball player leapt about a foot away from Stiles. Only seconds before, Derek had been bent over Stiles, who was lying practically flat on his back on the counter, _where they served paying customers food_ , with Stiles’ limbs wrapped around him like some horny, nineteen-year-old koala.

“Please don’t fire me,” Stiles said, scrambling to sit up on the counter and adjust his apron. “Derek was helping.”

“Helping you wipe down my counters with the seat of your pants, I see,” Bitty said, crossing his arms, though he was truthfully having a hard time keep a straight face.

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, be cleaning those again. But everything else is basically restocked and good to go! I even swindled extra C-fold paper towels from Greg the delivery guy, man’s always skimping us.”

“Well good, I’d been meaning to have a word with Greg. You’re off the hook –” Stiles pumped his fist as he jumped off the counter “—for _now_. But I’m making you clean the drains this weekend.”

“I deserve that. But – wait, is that Jack?”

Bitty turned and saw that Jack had only just sheepishly stepped around the corner.

“Jack’s just stopping in,” Bitty said.

“Hey, if you can have your boyfriend here then why can’t—” Stiles cut himself off at a warning look from Derek, then Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth. “Shit! I mean. This boy who is friendly…that is here with you. Um.”

“It’s okay,” Jack laughed. “I already asked him.”

“And I said yes,” Bitty said, giving Jack a quick smile over his shoulder.

“Yay, boyfriends!” Stiles cheered. “Well, Derek and I are soulmates.”

“Stiles, we went over this, I don’t believe in soulmates,” Derek sighed.

“We’ve been together for like tens of thousands of past lives.”

“Stiles…”

“We’re each other’s _destiny_.”

“He found out that we both used to main Yoshi in Mario Kart and immediately started planning our wedding,” Derek explained.

“And _you_ said we just had to wait ‘til we both graduate,” Stiles said, pointing an accusatory finger.

“Yeah,” Derek said, his expression softening, “yeah, I did.”

“Remind me,” Bitty said, knowing the answer, “exactly how long have y’all been dating?”

“One single, beautiful day,” Stiles said dreamily.

“Actually, it’s been 41 hours, so technically it’s almost two days,” Derek said.

“Holy shit, you are so sexy to me right now.”

“Oh, for the love of – Derek, I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta exile you to the other side of the counter so we can actually finish these opening duties.” Bitty turned to Jack, who looked extremely amused by the whole situation. “Jack, honey, it’s only fair that you go too. I’m not kickin’ either of you out, you’re welcome to stay in the café, but you’re too goddamn distracting over here. Also, I promised Jack pie. Would you like some too, Derek?”

“Yes, please,” Derek said, already speed walking to his usual corner table in order to placate Bitty’s wrath.

“Thanks, Bits,” Jack said, kissing the top of Bitty’s head as he walked past towards his seat with Derek. Bitty did not miss the fist bump they exchanged under the table before Derek leaned in to presumably get details from Jack.

“Well, we did it,” Stiles said, as he sprayed down the front counter. Bitty turned from where he had just popped the pies into a convection oven. “We fell in love at a coffee shop, just like the song said.”

“I don’t think the song implied you also worked at the coffee shop,” Bitty retorted, leaning down to shift some of the cookies on display. Stiles was trying to hide his favorites towards the back again.

“Maybe not. It’s a shit song anyway. Please skip it if it comes on our Coffee Shop Vibes radio station tonight.”

“Already done.”

“Hey,” Stiles said, placing a hand on Bitty’s shoulder, his brow furrowed in a rare moment of genuine sincerity. “It’s really awesome that it worked out with Jack. He seems like great guy. And you deserve that, because you work hard as hell and this place is like your whole life and responsibility, and I know you feel responsible for me too, since we’re family. But I hope you let Jack take care of you sometimes. I hope you make each other really happy.”

“Stiles,” Bitty said. His voice stuck in his throat as his eyes welled with tears. “That’s awful sweet of you to say."

Stiles shrugged. “It’s just true.”

“You should know you deserve to be happy, too,” Bitty said. Then carefully added, “And that happiness doesn’t have to be tied up in another person, you know. He doesn’t have to be the reason for your happiness, but I hope you’ll both find it together.”

“Dammit, Bitty,” Stiles said, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. “We cannot start having these therapy sessions to cope with our past trauma and largely conservative family upbringing right before we open.”

Bitty agreed with a wet laugh, as the timer went off for the pies. They each plated a piece for their respective men and delivered them in tandem.

“Are you guys okay?” Derek asked, reeling Stiles into his side.

“We’re fine,” Stiles said. “It’s just Scorpio season.”

“What does that mean?” Jack asked.

“Derek understands,” Stiles said, just as Derek was mouthing to Jack, ‘I have no idea.’

Bitty started laughing, Jack chuckling at his side. Then Derek snorted and everyone just lost it, escalating until they couldn’t even look each other in the eyes because they’d start it all off again.

Jack had taken Bitty’s hand, entwining their arms close enough together that their shoulders touched. So, whenever Bitty threw his head back from laughing, it ended up in the warm space where Jack’s neck met his shoulder, and Jack would rest his head on top of Bitty’s. Just for a moment. But long enough that Bitty could breathe in the scent of Jack’s cologne, his laundry detergent, and just the pleasant, clean smell of his skin.

“We probably ought to get started,” Bitty sighed, checking the clock on the wall. “Stiles, can you open the register and turn on the phones?”

“You got it,” Stiles said, jumping to his feet but not before smacking a loud kiss against Derek’s cheek. Derek didn’t even pretend to be put upon, or annoyed. He just looked after Stiles with open admiration.

“Is it alright if I stay?” Derek asked. “I promise to behave.”

“Oh, I trust you,” Bitty said. “I don’t think I trust Stiles, but of course you’re always welcome to stay as long as like.”

“In that case,” Jack said. “I may stick around a little longer. I did promise you a kiss at the end of your shift, didn’t I?”

“You sure did, sweetpea, and I’m holdin’ you to it,” Bitty said, brushing his thumb along Jack’s chin before reluctantly removing himself from his side. “Until then, duty calls. I’ve gotta see a man about some homemade whipped cream.”

“Do you want me to turn on the ‘Open’ sign for you?”

“Sure, honey, thank you.”

Bitty looked around his café, at the new friends and bonds being made there, at the lives just beginning for four young men who, all circumstances given, probably would never have met if his little café hadn’t existed.

Bitty smiled to himself, wiping his palms off on his apron, and checked the clock again. It had just turned 6 o’ clock in the evening.

It was time for Bitty to start his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to thank everyone again for supporting this silly fic idea! Thank you so much to everyone who has already left kudos, kind comments, and reblogs on tumblr <3 And for those of you finding this for the first time now that it's complete, thank you for reading!! I for SURE see myself writing more Teen Wolf in the future, but I don't know if I'll have the time for a lot of crossover stuff like this. That being said, I did have a lot of fun writing it and would love to know your thoughts! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to share my posts for it on [tumblr](https://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/post/189435666870/check-pleaseteen-wolf-crossover-zimbits) or [twitter!](https://twitter.com/Edgarallanrose1/status/1201570920265134081?s=20)
> 
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